


Lost Is An Understatement (Title may change when I have more brain cells)

by The_Grey_Angel



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, I've tweaked some things, Kinda?, Modern Era Reader, Multi, Non-binary Reader - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, Slight OOC, Swearing, Time Travel, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Grey_Angel/pseuds/The_Grey_Angel
Summary: The reader messes up a time travel spell and ends up in the Van der Linde Gang's camp while they're hiding in the mountains. Shenanigans ensue. I'm bad at summaries and I wrote this late at night... I want my cowboys to be happy, okay?
Kudos: 5





	Lost Is An Understatement (Title may change when I have more brain cells)

You spoke the last word of the incantation and opened the motel door, only to stumble into a rickety shack. Three men bolted to their feet, and two of them pointed their guns at you. 

"You have five seconds to give us a good reason not to shoot you," the one nearest the door informed you. He had a neat black mustache, and he wore a winter coat and a cowboy hat. 

You calmly held your hands in the air. "I have no idea where I am, but this is very much not where I was trying to go," you explained. 

"You ain't dressed for the weather; I’ll give you that." The man lowered his gun and motioned for his companion to do the same. Neither of them put their weapons away, however. 

"What's your name, kid?" the latter asked you. He was an older gentleman with grey hair and clean-shaven. 

You slowly lowered your hands. "Y/N Y/L/N," you answered. "Can I ask where I am?"

"I'm Dutch van der Linde," the man with the mustache introduced himself. "My friends here are Mr. Hosea Matthews," he nodded to the older man, "and Herr Leopold Strauss." The mousey-looking man in small glasses, basically cowering behind them. "And this is Colter, an abandoned mining town in the Grizzlies."

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. "So, not Toronto, then..." you mumbled, and you pulled your phone out of your back pocket. You groaned in annoyance. "No signal, great..."

"What is that?" Dutch asked in utter confusion. 

You looked up at him with a frown. "My phone?"

"You're tellin’ us that's a telephone??" Hosea exclaimed. 

It took you a few seconds, and then it hit you. "What year is it?"

The three men exchanged glances before Dutch answered. "1899. What were you expectin’?"

*****

You sat by the fire, in your newly borrowed winter coat and boots. You had been introduced to the gang’s other members and were now busy kicking yourself for fucking up that blood spell so badly. You had been warned not to try and tweak something so complicated but nooooo. You had to be right.

There was a commotion outside, someone calling for help. Despite your better judgment telling you to mind your own business, you ran out, following two of the women. 

"What is it??" You heard Dutch call to three men that had come in on horseback. 

"It's John!!" one of them shouted back. "He's been bit by a werewolf!" 

"Fuck," you muttered and ran faster. At least that explained why they had accepted the whole time travel thing so readily. "Did you kill it?!" you asked in a hurry.

"Who the hell are ya?" he demanded. 

"Y/N," Dutch answered. "Another lost soul."

"Did you kill the wolf who bit him??" you insisted. The women were taking the wounded one inside. 

"Did you?" Dutch asked as well.

"No," the man in a poncho replied. "We managed to wound them, but they can't be too far behind us."

"Shit," Dutch spat. "Then we better get ready for them." The men started running.

"I can cure him!" you shouted after Dutch. That stopped him dead in his tracks.

"What are you talkin' about? There ain’t no cure for that!"

You shook your head and caught up to him. "If he hasn't fed and you bring me the wolf who bit him, alive, there's a chance I can cure him."

He seemed to consider your words for a moment. "How big a chance?"

"88%," you answered. 

He nodded. "What else do you need?"

"Point me to your kitchen and medical supplies."

*****

With Dutch's directions, you quickly gathered the ingredients you needed and rushed to the cabin where they were keeping their wounded. 

"He's already turnin'," Abigail informed you. The poor bastard was howling in pain. 

"Restrain him," you instructed as you placed the supplies on a small table. "Chains, if you got'em." Tilly and Abigail did as you told them. "There's a chance I can save him, but we can't let him hurt anyone."

You pulled a first aid kit out of your bag and grabbed one of the syringes inside it. You grabbed an empty cup that was lying around and cleaned it with an alcohol pad before busying yourself with mixing the cure. You kept working as John -- that was his name -- was restrained to the cot they had put him on. His clothes were being ripped apart by bulging muscles, thick fur poking through the tears. Soon enough, there was the sound of snarling and gunshots outside. 

Someone just outside the door called your name, and you went out to see what they wanted. The two men that had brought John in were stood there, holding down a somewhat precariously restrained werewolf.

"That's the one," the guy in the poncho grunted with effort. "What do you need it for?"

"Its blood," you answered and quickly grabbed the cup with the partially completed cure. "While it's still alive."

"Gimme that." The other man held out his hand for the cup.

You gave it to him. "Don't spill a drop," you warned him. 

He nodded and pulled out a knife. "Javier, you got'im?" he asked his companion. He turned back to you after getting a nod of confirmation. "How much you need?"

"Not much," you replied. "Till it starts fizzing."

He stabbed the beast and collected its blood into the cup. As soon as the sound of fizzing could be heard, he handed it to you. You rushed back inside and put the cup down. You got the syringe out of the wrapper and removed the cap. Carefully you filled it with the cure and then made your way to John. You muttered a quiet prayer and injected it into his heart.

You stayed with him the whole time, hoping he was strong enough to survive the excruciating process. Other people came in, no doubt alerted by his screams of agony, but you just told them to stay back. You held your breath when he stopped breathing, and you waited. After what felt like way too long, the fur, claws and teeth retracted, and he reverted to human form. You heard Abigail cry in relief as John gasped for breath.

*****

Dutch insisted you have breakfast with him the next morning. You sat down on a stool, in his cabin, holding your bowl of stew. 

"I think it's safe to say you have more than earned your keep, Miss Y/L/N!" he exclaimed, a huge grin on his face.

You cleared your throat and managed a smile in response. "Not Miss," you told him somewhat reluctantly. You hadn't exactly landed in a very woke time period. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Y/L/N," he apologized in a smooth voice. "I didn't mean to assume."

You licked your lips nervously. "Not Mrs… or Mr." 

"Oh." He nodded slowly. "What would you prefer, then?"

You blinked a couple of times in surprise. "Um… Just Y/N is fine."

"Alright." He smiled. "I'll let the others know."

"Thanks," you sighed softly, feeling a bit less tense. "I didn't expect..." you trailed off.

"I think you'll find we're a more welcomin' group than most," he reassured you. "I wanted to ask… What are your plans, going forward?"

You leaned back against the wall. "Well, I need at least a week before I try that spell again," you started. "I also need to figure out where I messed up. Even then, I need to find the right ingredients… Who knows how long that's gonna take..." you explained. 

Dutch listened to you, nodding his head. "I see. Well, I don't think there'll be any objections to you stayin' with us for a while."

You hummed in agreement. "What are you doing next?" you asked. "I've gathered that you're running, but I'd like to have an idea what comes next."

He rubbed his mustache. "I'm going to be honest with you. We're plannin' on robbin' a train, and find a nice place to live, once we've got enough money."

"Wow..." You ran a hand through your hair. "No offence, but that's a very stupid idea." He looked pissed for a second, and part of you worried he would kick you out or something, but he just started laughing. "Something funny?" you inquired. 

He shook his head, still laughing. "Oh… I tell ya, none of my men would ever dare disrespect me like that..." You furrowed your brow, and he waved a hand dismissively as his laughter died down. "What would you do, then? I'm curious."

You took a big gulp of your stew like it was whiskey. "I've been on the run a few times," you started. "I mean, I'm here cause I was running. I'd find somewhere quiet and not attract unwanted attention for a good long while."

He leaned in closer from his spot on his cot. "And what if you needed money?"

"I like farms and ranches. It's legal work, and they usually don't ask too many questions." You shrugged. "I don't think times have changed so much that you can't do that in 1899."

"Probably not," he hummed thoughtfully. "Because you saved my boy's life, I'll think about it."

*****

A few days later, Dutch gathered everyone in John's cabin and gave a big speech about how it had come to his attention that robbing a train so close after Backwater (whatever that was, you would have to ask later) wasn't the brightest of ideas. He announced that the group was to move somewhere quiet and find honest work until the heat died down. Some of the people protested, but he calmed them easily. He asked for suggestions as to where to go and, in the end, the decision was settled on Canada. 

So there you were, sitting in the back of Dutch and Hosea's carriage, with John, Abigail and Jack. At least, the air was warmer, and the snow had thawed a bit. You sang songs with Jack to keep him entertained, and Abigail seemed grateful. Way too many damn bottles of beer on the wall later, the group stopped to make camp for the night. You climbed out of the carriage with a groan and very gratefully stretched your legs. That was short-lived because Miss Grimshaw quickly put you to work setting up camp.


End file.
